Remorse
by Feilyn
Summary: Yoruichi confronts Kisuke about his mistakes.


_Damn, latest chapter of Bleach. Watching the Zaraki go at it and then Ichigo and Orihime pop in to remind us that they're still there. Found that rather amusing._

_Anyway, this is written for the lovely _snowzapped_ who very kindly helped out with a certain aspect of my story The Stage. The request was Urahara/Yoruichi, and I hope I did it well._

_Enjoy! (Please?)_

xXx

"Do you feel it?"

He doesn't glance up from his notes, used to her sudden appearances as he is.

"Hmm?"

"Guilt. Remorse. Do you feel it?"

He does look up this times, swinging around in his swivel chair to face her. He does so love his swivel chair.

"For which particular transgression?"

She wrinkles her nose at him. "Don't speak like that. It's irritating."

He flashes her a grin from beneath his hat, returning to his notes. "Isn't it just?"

The back of his beloved chair is grabbed and he's hauled back and spun around to face her. She's really very close, leaning in on him like that.

"Tell me you feel something, Kisuke."

"I feel many things," he replies ambiguously, although he allows his tone to be serious for once. He's not insane enough to risk her anger when there's no escape like this.

But there's never been any escape from her anyway. In those rare moments when he doesn't feel like lying to himself, he'll admit that there never was.

She shoves him away from her in disgust and he pretends to topple over slightly. On instinct, she grabs his arm and he carefully conceals a grin which blooms into a grimace as her hand clamps down hard.

"You sent an innocent _child_ to her death," she says softly.

It's about time someone confronted him for that.

He waves his hand, pouting. "Not to her _death._"

"Just to unimaginable pain and torture?" she shoots back, squeezing harder on his arm. He wonders idly if he ought to throw her off him sometime soon, before she tries to rip it right off.

He looks at her hand and back to her golden eyes. He can pick out the darker flecks of brown in them, now that she's leaning in close again. "Ouch," he remarks.

She lets him go, but it's not out of any pity for him. He knows right now that she'd rather just not touch him. Intrigued, he inspects the five finger-shaped bruises she's left on his arm.

"You will have your games, Kisuke, but this one has gone too far."

He ruminates on the amount of times he's been told that, by her and others and realises with a start that he can't remember. How odd. Someone (he forgets who) once said that Urahara Kisuke probably remembered being born.

Which was strange, because very seldom was a person _born_ in Soul Society.

"I was too late," he tells her simply.

"You sent Orihime away without protection. How could you do that? She doesn't have any sense at the best of times!"

He feels a stab of anger mixed with hurt and frowns at it. "Sending her away was the protection." And with no further explanation, he scoots back on his swivel chair and swings around to his notes.

He hears her thunk against the doorway and can imagine the way she's positioned herself. Arms crossed, hip cocked out the side, golden eyes thoughtful. It's never taken much to imagine the way she looks.

"You sent her away for protection."

Its not posed as a question, but he knows she wants an answer anyway. "Yes."

"How exactly does stopping her training, ripping her self esteem to pieces and sending her away from some of the most powerful men who ever existed constitute _protection?_"

He carefully folds the summary of his studies into a paper plane and lobs it over his head, listening as she snatches it out of the air. She hates reading and is silent as she does so.

"The power to reject. That's what you found out."

He yawns. "What Aizen found out. At least, that's my theory."

She's frowning, he can tell. "Don't give me that crap. We both know the success rate of your theories."

"Ninety-eight point two percent," he notes meticulously, then frowns. "I'm not happy with Kurosaki for bringing that rate down."

"Don't change the subject."

He feels rather like a spinning top, turning to her again, face artfully innocent. "Would I do such a thing?"

"And worse," she confirms. "I want you to tell me – truthfully. Did you know Orihime would be captured?"

"I had hoped it was not too late."

"Right. But just say you had a _theory_ that it was too late." They lock eyes. "Do you want her to destroy the Hōgyoku?"

He is silent for a long time. Finally, he sighs and looks away. "I don't want anyone to destroy the Hōgyoku."

"Kisuke—"

"There is a but in there somewhere."

She opens her mouth then thinks better of it, waiting for him to continue.

"I thought of it."

He can see in her eyes, she knows there's more.

"But I couldn't. Not after what happened last time. So I sent her away and hoped Aizen hadn't noticed her."

"You know she's going to try it anyway."

He smiles, bitterly this time. She is the only person he will let see this part of him. "So does Aizen, I would wager."

She gives him a mocking grin that hides her worry. "Afraid, Kisuke?"

He thinks about how he wants to respond to that. To lie, or not to lie? "Terrified."

It's hard not to laugh as she falls over, but he manages. He'd rather keep his eyeballs, if it's all the same.

She arranges herself against the wall again as if nothing had happened. "So. If you were to give me one of your ninety-eight point two percent correct theories about the outcome of this war, what would you say?"

He can't look at her when he answers, although he does so almost immediately. He's calculated the odds far too many times for them to not be at the forefront of his mind. "I don't know, Yoruichi. I don't know."

Those words feel as if they should be the closing ones, ending communication but she stays. Stays, and moves closer in fact.

"What other theories do you have locked up in that brain of yours, Kisuke?"

He gets the feeling he's being forgiven. He likes that. No matter how easy it is to survive alone, it's disturbingly easier to live with Yoruichi.

"I wonder," he murmurs, as she moves closer again. He does love the way Yoruichi can switch moods from one moment to the next. Infinitely irritating, infinitely exciting. Life could use a little spicing up as they wait for winter.

It's in the aftermath of said spicing that he remembers to answer her question.

"Yes," he whispers. She purrs lightly in her sleep. He's never been able to figure out how she does that in her human form, but there are many things about Yoruichi that Urahara Kisuke has never been able to figure out. "Every day."

xXx

_Hmm. I like it. I don't know if snowzapped will, but _I_ do. –defiance–_


End file.
